


You can't wake up, this is not a dream

by Buttercup_ghost



Series: Goretober [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chara Has Their Own Body, Depression, Goretober, Goretober 2017, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, References to Undertale Genocide Route, Suicidal Thoughts, You know the usual chara stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 12:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12276591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: You're part of a machine.You are not a human being.Or; frisk lives for the cameras, and chara wonders why they're living at all.





	You can't wake up, this is not a dream

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt - glitch

Frisk saves you.

 

 

 

 

They want peace. Or, at the very least,  _this_  version of them wants peace. You have known many of their faces, and this is the first one you've met that has only sighed, and chose spare. Maybe they, like you, were tired.

When they get out of the mountain, monsters in tow, reporters flock to them, cameras flickering.

Frisk smiles at them, but in reality their face is blank.

 

 

Frisk is a god—that's the only way you could explain it, anyways. They do things no human should be able to; _hacking_ , they call it.

You don't know if that's what it really is, or what they mean by that, but you know this:

Frisk brought you back from the dead.

 

 

 

When you were small, you used to think you were an angel, stripped of wings. You were sent from the heavens, on a mission to guide these gentle monsters out. Only later did you realized you've been deluding yourself the whole time, only later did you realize the truth.

You were cast from heaven, thrown aside, left to rot, just like by your family. 

You were no longer an angel, you were a fallen one. More than that, you were a demon; an evil, vile creature that destroyed everything they loved. Despite it all, though, you were always sure you were _powerful_. You were always sure you had _control_. 

You're not so sure anymore.

You're so very, very, tired.

 

 

The world around you is fabricated; you realize that, now. Everything is just frisks plaything, in the end. Maybe even themselves. You're not sure they realize it—realize that they should not, _could not_ , exist. In this world made of code you know—you've over stayed your welcome.

You know. Despite how they wipe the slate clean, erased even your own memory of a run with cold eyes and hard laughed, you know. You're not sure what you know, you just do. Something is wrong. Something is off. It's their doing.

Would one rather rest in a false utopia, or burn in the truth?

You don't know why you're alive again.

 

 

 

They're a business person. That's all you can think. They smile, and laugh, and _act_ , act as if they hadn't slaughtered thousands with those small, lithe, hands. 

There has only ever been one frisk.

 

 

You remember, one day, and you shout at them. You're raw; anger and sadness and pain, all there, but they don't do a thing in the face of it, as if they are a machine, a mockery of human. Something screams in you, at that, _just like you._ You ignore it.

"Chara," you can count the times you heard them speak on one hand, "did you really think," they pause, searching for the words, maybe, "you were real?"

That's all they say, before they lean in for a kiss, their knife against your (fake, fake fake fake _fake_ -) form. 

The cameras flicker.

Frisk smiles at you, but in reality their face is blank.

 

 

 

 

Frisk kills you.

It doesn't matter; you were only ever a glitch in the system, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> Song the title is from: _gasoline - Halsey_


End file.
